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LETTERS 

WRITTEN BY THE LATE 

EARL OF CHATHAM 

TO HIS NEPHEW J) * ..... 

THOMAS PITT, ESQ. 

(afterward lord camelford) 

THEN AT CAMBRIDGE. 



ODYSS. Ea 272* 



SECOND AMERICAN EDITlOfo 



CAMBRIDGE, 

aiHJTEI) AND SOLD B7 W. HILLIARD, AND »T TH6 
800KS2LLER3 IN BOSTON, 

i-8oji 



■:■ 






.-•' 



4 b ^° 



TO 



THE RIGHT HONORABLE 

WILLIAM PITT. 



Dropmore r Dec* 3* 1803. 
My dear sir, 

VV HEN you expressed to me your entire 
concurrence in my wish to print the following let- 
ters, you were not apprized that this address would 
accompany them. By you it will, I trust, be re- 
ceived as a testimony of affectionate friendship. To 
others the propriety will be obvious of inscribing 
with your name a publication, in which Lord Chat- 
ham teaches, how great talents may most successful- 
ly be cultivated, and to what objects they may mosfc 
honorably be directed. 

ORENVILLE. 



THE 

EDITOR'S PREFACE 

JL HE following letters were addressed by tW 
late Lord Chatham to his nephew Mr. Pitt, after* 
ward Lord Camelford, then at Cambridge. They 
are few in number, written for the private use of an 
individual during a short period of time, and contain- 
ing only such detached observations on the extensive 
subjects to which they relate, as occasion might hap- 
pen to suggest, in the course of familiar correspon- 
dence. Yet even these imperfect remains will un- 
doubtedly be received by the public with no com- 
mon interest, as well from their own intrinsic value, 
as from the picture, which they display of the char- 
acter of their author. The editor's wish to do hon- 
or to the memory both of the person by whom they 
were written, and of him to whom they were ad- 
dressed, would alone have rendered him desirous of 
making these papers public. But he feels a much 
higher motive, in the hope of promoting by such a 
publication the inseparable interests of learning, vir- 
tue, and religion. By the writers of that school, 
whose philosophy consists in the degradation of vir- 
tue, it has often been triumphantly declared, that no 

excellence of character can stand the test of close oV 
At 



VI 

gervation ; that no man is a hero to his domestic ser- 
vants, or to his familiar friends. How much more 
just as well, as more amiable and dignified, is the 
opposite sentiment, delivered to us in the words of 
Plutarch, and illustrated throughout all his writings. 
iS Real virtue," says that inimitable moralist, " is most 
loved, where it is most nearly seen ; and no pros- 
pect which it commands from strangers, can equal 
the never ceasing admiration it excites in the daily 
intercourse of domestic life." T« uMhm *$»$ xk*- 

^itrroc QcAivilxi roi/ficiXiarres, tyccwofAivct xui rm ayccQw ctvogcov hvch 
W7# Oavpoicrtov roif \x[»s, a$ o xcttf yp&gaw files rots o-vvavtriv, 

Plut. Vit. Periclis. 

The following correspondence, imperfect as it is, 
(and who will not lament that many more such let- 
ters are not preserved ?) exhibits a great orator, 
Statesman and patriot, in one of the most interesting 
relations of private society. Not, as in the cabinet 
or the senate, enforcing by a vigorous and command- 
ing eloquence those councils, to which his country 
owed her preeminence and glory ; but implanting 
with parental kindness into the mind of an ingenu- 
ous youth, seeds of wisdom and virtue, which ripen- 
ed into full maturity in the character of a most accom- 
plished man ; directing him to the acquisition of 
knowledge,* as the best instrument of action , teaching 

* Ingenium illustre altioribus studiis juvenis admodum dedit ; 
Hon ut nomine magninco segne otium velaret, sed quo firmxor ad- 
yereiis fortuita rem publicans capesseret. Tacitus. 



VII 

him by the cultivation of his reason, to strengthen and 
establish in his heart those principles of moral recti- 
tude which were congenial to it ; and, above all, ex- 
horting him to regulate the whole conduct of his life 
by the predominant influence of gratitude, and obe- 
dience to God, as the only sure groundwork of every 
human duty ! 

What parent, anxious for the character and success 
of a son, born to any liberal station in this great and 
free country, would not, in all that related to his edu- 
cation, gladly have resorted to the advice of such a 
man ? What youthful spirit, animated by any desire 
of future excellence, and looking for the gratification 
of that desire, in the pursuits of honourable ambition 
or in the consciousness of an upright, active, and useful 
life, would not embrace with transport any opportu- 
nity of listening on such a subject to the lessons of 
Lord Chatham ? They are here before him. Not 
delivered with the authority of a preceptor, or a pa- 
rent, but tempered by the affection of a friend towards 
a disposition and character well entitled to such regard. 

On that disposition and character the editor for- 
bears to enlarge. Their best panegyric will be found 
in the following pages. Lord Camelford is there de- 
scribed such as Lord Chatham judged him in the first 
dawn of his youth, and such as he continued to his 
latest hour. The same suavity of manners, and stead- 
iness of principle, the same correctness of judgment, 
and integrity of heart, distinguished him through life | 



tin 

and the same affectionate attachment from those who 
knew him best has followed him beyond the grave* 

Quse Gratia vivo—* — > 
— Eadem sequiter tellure repostum ! 

Of the course of study which these letters recom- 
mend, little can be necessary to be said by their editor* 
He is however anxious that a publication, calculated to 
produce extensive benefit, should not in any single 
point mislead even the most superficial reader \ nor 
would he, with all the defFerence which he owes to 
the authority of Lord Chatham, willingly appear to 
concur in the recommendation or censure of any 
works, on which his own judgment is materially dif- 
ferent from that, which he is now the instrument of 
delivering to the world. 

Some early impressions had preposessed Lord 
Chatham's mind with a much more favourable opin- 
ion of the political writtings of Lord Bolingbroke, 
than he might himself have retained on a more im- 
partial reconsideration. To a reader of the present 
day, the " Remarks on the History of England" 
would probably appear but ill entitled to the praises 
which are in these letters so liberally bestowed upon 
them. For himself, at least, the editor may be al- 
lowed to say, that their style is, in his judgment, de- 
clamatory, diffuse, and involved ; deficient both in 
elegance and in precision, and little calculated to sat- 
isfy a taste formed, as Lord Chatham's was on the 
purest models of classic simplicity. Their matter he 



IX 

thinks more substantially defective ; the observations 
which they contain, display no depth of thought, or 
extent of knowledge •, their reasoning is, for the most 
part, trite and superficial ; while on the accuracy 
with which the facts themselves are represented no 
reliance can safely be placed. The principles and 
character of their author Lord Chatham himself con- 
cerns, with just reprobation. And when, in addi- 
tion to this general censure, he admits, that in these 
writings the truth of history is occasionally warped, 
and its application distorted for party purposes, what 
further notice can be wanted of the caution with which 
such a book must always be regarded ? 

Lord Chatham appears to have recommended to 
his nephew, at the same time, the study of a very 
differ en t work, the history of Clarendon. But he 
speaks with some distrust of the integrity of that val- 
uable writer. When a statesman traces, for the in- 
struction of posterity, the living images of the men 
and manners of his time •, the passions by which he 
has himself been agitated, and the revolutions in 
which his own life and fortunes were involved, the 
picture will doubtless retain a strong impression of 
the mind, the character, and the opinions of its au« 
thor. But there will always be a wide interval be- 
tween the bias of sincere conviction and the dishon- 
esty of intentional misrepresentation. 

Clarendon was unquestionably a lover of truth, and 
a sincere friend to the free constitution of his country. 



He defended that constitution in parliament, wltfk 
Zeal and energy, against* the encroachments of pre-* 
rogative, and concurred in the establishment of new 
securities necessary for its protection. He did in- 
deed, when these had been obtained, oppose with e- 
qual determination those continually increasing de- 
mands of parliament, which appeared to him to threat- 
en the existence of the monarchy itself*, desirous, if 
possible, to conciliate the maintenance of public lib- 
erty with the preservation of domestic peace, and to 
turn aside from his country all the evils to which 
those demands immediately and manifestly tended.f 
The wish was honorable and virtuous, but it was 
already become impracticable. The purposes of ir- 
reconcileable ambition entertained by both the con- 
tending parties, were utterly inconsistent with the 
reestablishment of mutual confidence.- The parlia- 
mentary leaders openly grasped at the exclusive pos- 
session of all civil and all military authority. And 
on the other hand,, the perfidy with which the king 
had violated his past engagements still rankled in the 
hearts of his people, whose just suspicions of his sin- 
cerity were continually renewed by the unsteadiness 

* See particularly the accounts, in Rushworth and Whitelock, of 
Clarendon's parliamentary conduct in 1640 and 1641 ; and of that 
«>f Falkland and Colpepper, with whom he acted. 

f A general recapitulation of these demands may be found in the 
message sent by the two Houses to the king, on the 2d of June, 
1642 ; a paper which is recited by Ludlow as explanatory of the 
real intentions of the parliament at that period, and as being " in ef? 
feet the principal foundation of the ensuing war." 

I Ludlow, 30, ed. 1698* 



of his conduct, even in the very moments of fresh 
-concession. While, amongst a large proportion of 
the community, every circumstance of civil injury or 
oppression was inflamed and aggravated by the ut- 
most violence of religious animosity. 

In this unhappy state the calamities of civil war 
could no longer be averted ; but the miseries by which 
the contest was attended, and the military tyranny to 
which it is so naturally led, justified all the fears of 
those who had from the beginning most dreaded 
that terrible extremity. 

At the restoration the same virtuous statesman 
protected the constitution against the blind or inter- 
ested zeal of excessive loyalty y and, if Monk had the 
glory of restoring the monarchy of England, to Cla- 
rendon is ascribed the merit of reestablishing her 
Jaws and liberties. A service no less advantageous 
to the crown than honourable to himself ; but which 
was numbered among the chief of those offences for 
which he was afterwards abandoned, sacrificed, and 
persecuted by his unfeeling, corrupt, and profligate 
master. 

These observations respecting one of the most up- 
light characters of our history, are here delivered 
with freedom, though in some degree opposed to so 
high an authority. The habit of forming such opin- 
ions for ourselves, instead of receiving them from 
others, is not the least among the advantages of such 
a course of reading and reflection as Lord Chatham 
^commends. 



XII 



It will be obvious to every reader on the slightest 
perusal of the following letters, that they were never 
intended to comprise a perfect system of education, 
even for the short portion of time to which they re- 
late. Many points in which they will be found de- 
ficient, were undoubtedly supplied by frequent op- 
portunities of personal intercourse, and much was 
left to the general rules of study established at an 
English university. Still less therefore should the 
temporary advice addressed to an individual, whose 
previous education had laboured under some disad- 
vantage, be understood as a general dissuasive from 
the cultivation of Grecian literature. The sentiments 
of Lord Chatham were in direct opposition to any 
such opinion. The manner in which, even in these 
letters, he speaks of the first of poets, and the great- 
est of orators ; and the stress which he lays on the 
benefits to be derived from their immortal works, 
could leave no doubt of his judgment on this impor- 
tant point. That judgment was afterwards most un* 
equivocally manifested, when he was called upon to 
consider the question with a still higher interest, not 
only as a friend and guardian, but also as a father. 

A diligent study of the poetry, the history, the 
eloquence, and the philosophy of Greece, an intimate 
acquaintance with those writings which have been 
the admiration of every age, and the models of all 
succeeding excellence, would undoubtedly have been 
considered by him as an essential part of any gene* 



.xni 

vol plan for the education of an English gentleman, 
born to share in the councils of his country. Such 
a. plan must also have comprised a much higher pro- 
gress, than is here traced out, in mathematics, in the 
science of reason, -in natural,* and in moral philoso- 
phy ; including in the latter the proofs and doctrines 
of that revelation by which it has been perfected. 
Nor would the work have been considered by him as 
finished, until on these foundations there had been 
built an accurate knowledge of the origin, nature and 
safeguards of government and civil liberty ; of the 
principles of public and municipal law ; and of the 
theory of political, commercial, financial, and milita- 
ry administration j as resulting from the investiga- 
tions of philosophy, and as exemplified in the lessons 
both of ancient and of modern history. 

" I call that," says Miltun, " a complete and gen- 
<c erous education, which fits a man to perform justly, 

* A passage has been quoted above from the Life of Pericles. 
*The editor cannot refrain from once more referring his reader to 
the same beautiful work, for the description of the benefits which 
that great statesman derived from the study of natural philosophy. 

The lessons of Ajnaxagoras, says our author, gave elevation to his 
soul, and sublimity to his eloquence ; tbey diffused ever the whole 
tenor of his life a temperate and majestic grandeur; taught him to 
raise his thoughts from the works of Nature to the contemplation 
-of that Perfect and Pure Intelligence from which they orig- 
inate ; and, (as Plutarch expresses it, in words that might best de- 
scribe a Christian philosopher,) instilled into his mind, instead of 
the dark and fearful superstition of his times, that piety which is 
confirmed by reason and animated by hope ; #fl} rfg ipofispec; Kdf 
Qteypo&wuffnq cenrioxipwvtscs tw artpciXii mi iTug-ffim cirycj&p 



30Y 

^ skilfully, and magnanimously, all the offices, both. 
^ public and private, of peace and war." 

This is the purpose to which all knowledge is sub- 
ordinate 5 the test of all intellectual and all moral ex- 
cellence. It is the end to which the lessons of Lord 
Chatham are uniformly directed. May they contri- 
bute to promote and encourage its pursuit ! Recom- 
mended, as they must be, to the heart of every reader, 
by their warmth of sentiment and eloquence of lan- 
guage | deriving additional weight from the affection- 
ate interest by which they were dictated 5 and most 
of all enforced by the influence of his own great ex- 
ample* and by the authority of his venerable name. 

Propmore, Dec, 
3> 1803. 



LETTERS, &og 



LETTER t 

Ht BEAU CHIL0, 

1 am extremely pleased with your translation 
now it is writ over fair. It is very close to the sense 
of the original, and done, in many places v/i h much 
spirit, as well as the numbers not lame, or rough. 
However an attention to Mr. Pope's numbers will 
make you avoid some ill sounds, and hobbling of the 
verse, by only transposing a word or two, in many in- 
stances. I have, upon reading the Eclogue over a- 
gain, altered the third, fourth,, and fifth lines, in or- 
der to bring them nearer to the Latin, as well as to 
render some beauty which is contained in the repeti- 
tion of words in tender passages % for example, Nos 
Patrise fines, et dulcia linquimis arva, Nos Patrian\ 
fugimus. Tu Tityre lentus in umbra Formosam re- 
sonare doces Amaryllida Sylvas* We leave our na- 
tive land, these fields so sweet, Our country leave. 
At ease, in cool retreat, You Thyrsis bid the woods 
fair Daphne's name repeat. I will desire you to 
write over another copy with this alteration, and also 



XVI 



to write smoaks in the plural number, in the last line 
but one. You give me great pleasure, my dear child,, 
in the progress you have made. I will recommend 
to Mr. Leech to carry you quite through Virgil's J&- 
neid from beginning to ending. Pray shew him 
this letter, with my service to him, and thanks for 
his care of you. For English poetry, I recommend' 
Pope's translation of Homer, and Dryden's Fables in 
particular, I am not sure, if they are not called Tales- 
instead of Fables. Your cousin, whom I am sure you 
can overtake if you will, has read Virgil's .iEneid 
quite through, and much of Horace's Epistles. Ter- 
ence's plays I would also desire Mr. Leech to make- 
you perfect master of. Your cousin has read them 
all. Go on my dear, and you will at least equal him. 
You are so good that I have nothing to wish but 
that you may be directed to proper books ; and p 
trust to your spirit, and desire to be praised for 
things that deserve praise, for the figure you wilh 
hereafter make* God bless you my dear child. 

Your most affectionate uncle* 



xya 

LETTER IL 

Bath, Oct. 12, 1751; 

MY DEAR NEPHEW, 

ixS I have been moving about from place to 
place, your letter reached me here, at Bath, but very 
lately, after making a considerable circuit to find me. 
I should have otherwise, my dear child, returned you 
thanks for the great pleasure you have given me, long 
before now. The very good account you give me 
of your studies, and that delivered in very good Lat- 
in, for your time, has filled me with the highest ex- 
pectation of your future improvements. I see the 
foundations so well laid, that I do not make the least 
doubt but you will become a perfect good scholar ; 
and have the pleasure and applause that will attend 
the several advantages hereafter, in the future course 
of your life, that you can only acquire now by your 
emulation and noble labours in the pursuit of learn- 
ing, and of every acquirement that is to make you 
superior to other gentlemen. I rejoice to hear that 
you have begun Homer's Iliad ; and have made so 
great a progress in Virgil. I hope you taste and 
love those authors particularly. You cannot read 
them too much -, they are not only the two greatest 
poets, but they contain the fineft lessons for your age 
to imbibe ; lessons of honor, courage, disinter- 
estedness, love of truth, command of temper^ 



XVIIX 

gentleness of behaviour^ humanity, and in on# 
word, virtue in its true signification. Go on, 
my dear nephew, and drink as deep as you can of 
these divine springs ; the pleasure of the draught is 
equal at least to the prodigious advantages of it to the 
heart and morals. I hope you will drink them as 
Somebody does in Virgil of another sort of cup. Ille 
Impiger hausit spumantem Pateram. 

I shall be highly pleased to hear from you, and to 
know what authors give you most pleasure. I desire 
my service to Mr. Leech j pray tell him I will -write- 
to him soon about your studies. 

I am 3 with the greatest affection^ 
My dear child, 

Your loving uncle. 



LETTER III. 

Bath, Jan, 12, 2754, 1 

MY DEAR 'NEPHEW,. 

A OUR letter from Cambridge affords me 
aiany very sensible pleasures ; first, that you are at last 
in a proper place for study and improvement, instead 
of losing any more of that most precious thing, time,, 
in London. In the next place that you seem pleas- 
ed with the particular society you are placed in, and 
-with the gentleman to whose care and instructions you 



are committed j and above all I applaud the sound 3 
right sense, and love of virtue, which appears through 
your whole letter. You are already possessed of the 
true clue to guide you through this dangerous and 
perplexing part of your life's journey, the years of ed- 
ucation ; and upon which, the complexion of all the 
rest of your days will infallibly depend ; I say you 
have the true clue to guide you, in the maxim you lay 
down in your letter to me, namely, that the use of 
learning is, to render a man more wise and virtuous y 
not merely to make him more learned. Macte tua 
Virtute j Go on rny dear boy, by this golden rule s 
and you cannot fail to become every thing your gen- 
erous heart prompts you to wish to be, and that mine 
most affectionately wishes for you.. There is but 
one danger in your way ; and that is perhaps, natu- 
ral enough to your age, love of pleasure, or the fear 
of close application and laborious diligence. With 
the last there is nothing you may not conquer j and 
the first is sure to conquer and inslave whoever does 
not strenuously and generously risist the first allure- 
ments of it, lest by small indigencies, he fail under 
the yoke of irresistable habit. Vitanda est Improba 
Siren, Desidia, I desire may be affixt to the curtains 
of your bed, and to the walls of your chambers. If you 
do not rise early, you never can make any progress 
worth talking of •, and another rule is, if you do not 
set apart your hours of reading, and never suffer 
yourself or any one else to break in upon them, your 
days will slip through your hands, unproiltably and 



Hi 

frivolously ; unpraised by all you wish to please, and 
really unenjoyable to yourself. Be assured, whatev- 
er you take from pleasure, amusements, or indolence, 
for these first few years of your life, will repay you 
a hundred fold in the pleasures, honours, and ad- 
vantages of all the remainder of your days. My 
heart is so full of the most earnest desire that you 
should do well, that I find my letter has run into 
some length, which you will, I know, be so good to 
excuse. There remains now nothing to trouble you 
with but a little plan for the beginning of your stud- 
ies, which I desire, m a particular manner, may be 
exactly followed in every tittle* You are to qualify 
yourself for the part in society, to which your birth* 
and estate call you. You are to be a gentleman of 
such learning- and qualifications as may distinguish 
you in the service of your country hereafter ', not a 
pedant, who leads only to be called learned, instead 
of considering learning as an instrument only for ac- 
tion. Give me leave therefore, my dear nephew, 
who have gone before you, to point out to you the 
dangers in your road \ to guard you against such 
things, as I experience my own defects to arise from j 
and at the same time, if I have had any little succes- 
ses, in the world, to guide you to what I have drawn 
many helps from. I have not the pleasure of know- 
ing the gentleman who is your tutor, but I dare say 
he is every way equal to such a charge,, which I think 
no small one. You will communicate this letter to 
him, and I hope he will be so good to concur with 



'XXI" 

&iey as to the course of study I desire you may begin 
with ; and that such books, and such only, as I have 
pointed out may be read, They are as follows *, Eu~ 
clid ; a course of Logic ; a Course of experimental- 
Phylosophy ; Locke's Conduct of the Understand- 
ing ; his Treatise also on the Understanding | 
his Treatise on. Government, and Letters on Tolera- 
tion. I desire, for the present, no books o£poetry ? 
but Horace and Virgil ; of Horace the Odes, but a- 
bove all, the Epistles and Ars Pcetica. These psrts 5 . 
Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna. Tuliy 
de Officiis, de Amicitia, de Senectute, His Ca~ 
tilinarian Orations- and Philippics. Sailust. At 
leisure hours, an abridgment of the History of Eng- 
land to be run through in order to settle in the mind" 
a general chronological order, and series of principal 
events, and succession of kings ; proper books of Eng r 
lish history, on the trueprinciples of our happy con- 
stitution, shall be pointed curt afterwards. Burnet's 
History of the Reformation, abridged by himself, to 
be read with great care. Father Paul on beneficiary 
Matters, in English. A French master, and only 
Moliere's Plays to be read with him, or by yourself^ 
till you have gone through them all. Spectators, es- 
pecially Mr. Addison's papers, to be read very fre- 
quently at broken times in your room. I make it my 
request that you will forbear drawing, totally, while 
you are at Cambridge ; and not meddle with Greek, 
otherwise than to know a little the etymology of 
words in tatin ? or English, or French s nor to med»- 



xxxi 

ife with Italian, I hope this little course will sooit 
be run through. I intend it as a general foundation 
for many things, of infinite utility, to come as soon 
as this is finished. 

Believe me, 
With the truest affection. 

My dear nephew, eyer yours*' 
ICeep this and read it again* 



LETTER "IV, 

Bath, Jan, 14, 17541 

MY DEAR NEPHEW* 

1 OU will hardly have read over one very- 
long letter from me before you are troubled 'with a. 
second. I intended to have written soon, but I do 
it the sooner on account of your letter to your aunt,, 
which she transmitted to me here. If any tiring, my 
dear boy, could have happened to raise you higher 
in my esteem, and to endear you more to me, it is 
the amiable abhorrence you feel for the scene of vice 
and folly, (and of real misery and perdition, under the 
false notion of pleasure and spirit,) which has opened 
to you at your college,, and at the same time, the 
manly, brave, generous, and wise resolution and 
spirit, with which you resisted and repulsed the first 
attempts upon 3 mind and hearty I thank Co- : imjfes 



Itely too firm and noble, as well as too elegant and 
enlightened, to be in any danger of yielding to such 
contemptible and wretched corruptions. You charm 
me with the description of Mr. "Wheler,* and while 
you say you could adore him, I could adore you for 
the natural, genuine love of virtue, which speaks in 
all you feel, say or do. As *o your companions let 
this be your rule. Cultivate the acquaintance with 
Mr. Wheler which you have so fortunately begun ; 
and in general, be sure to associate with men much 
older than yourself ; scholars whenever you can ; 
but always with men of decent and honourable lives. 
As their age and learning, superior both to your 
own, must necessarily, in good sense, and in the view 
of acquiring knowledge from them, entitle them to all 
deference, and submission of your own lights to 
theirs, you will particularly practise that first and 
greatest rule for pleasing in conversation, as well as 
for drawing instruction and improvement from the 
company of one's superiors in age and knowledge, 
namely, to be a patient, attentive, and wellbread 
hearer, and to answer with modesty ; to deliver your 
own opinions sparingly and with proper diffidence 5 
and if you are forced to desire farther information 
or explanation upon a point, to do it with proper a- 
oologies for the trouble you give 5 or if obliged to 

* The Rev. John Wheler, prebendary of Westminister. The 
friendship formed between this gentleman and Lord Camelford at 
so early a period of their lives, was founded in mutual esteem, and 
continued uninterrupted till Lord Camelford's death. 



differ, to do it with all possible candour, and- an unpre- 
judiced desire to find and ascertain truth, with an en- 
tire indifference to the side on which that truth is to 
be found. There is likewise a particular attention re- 
quired to contradict with good manners.; such as, 
begging pardon, begging leave to doubt, and such 
like phrases. Pythagoras enjoined his scholars an 
absolute silence for a long noviciate. I am far from 
approving such a taciturnity ; but I highly recom- 
mend the end and intent of Pythagoras' s injunction; 
which is to dedicate the first parts of life more to 
hear and learn, in order to collect materials, out of 
which to form opinions founded on. proper lights, and 
well examined sound principles, than to be presum- 
ing, prompt, and flippant in hazarding one's own 
slight crude notions of things ; and thereby exposing 
the nakedness and emptiness of the mind, like a house 
opened to company before it is fitted either with ne- 
cessaries, or any ornaments for their reception and en- 
tertainment. And net only will this disgrace follow 
from such temerity and presumption, but a more se- 
rious danger is sure to ensue, that is, the embracing 
errors for truths, prejudices for principles ; and when 
that is once done, (no matter how vainly and weakly,) 
the adhering perhaps to false and dangerous notions,, 
only because one has declared for them, and submit- 
ing, for life, the understanding and conscience to a 
yoke of base and servile prejudices, vainly taken up 
•and obstinately retained. This will never be your 
danger \ but I thought it not 'amiss to offer these re- 



XXV 

Sections to your thoughts. As to your manner of be* 
having towards those unhappy young gentlemen you 
•describe, let it be manly and easy u decline their par- 
ties with civility ; retort their raillery with raillery, 
always tempered with good breeding ; if they ban- 
ter your regularity, order, decency, and love of study, 
banter in return their neglect of them ; and ven- 
ture to own frankly, that you came to Cambridge to 
•learn what you can, not to follow what they are 
pleased to call pleasure. In short, let your external 
behaviour to them be as full of politeness and ease as 
your inward estimation of them is full of pity, mixed 
with contempt. I come now to the part of the advice 
I have to offer to you, which most nearly concerns 
your welfare, and upon which every good and hon- 
ourable purpose of your life will assuredly turn ; I 
-mean the keeping up in your heart the true senti- 
ments of religion, If you are not right towards God, 
you can never be -so towards man ; the noblest senti- 
ment of the human breast is here brought to the test. 
Is gratitude in the number of a man's virtues ? if it 
be, the highest benefactor demands the warmest re- 
turns of gratitude, love, and praise. Ingratum qui 
dixerit, omnia dixit. If a man wants this virtue 
where there are infinite obligations to excite and 
quicken it, he will be likely to want all others towards 
his fellow creatures, whose Utmost gifts are poor com- 
pared to those he daily receives at the hands of his 
never failing Almighty Friend. P^emember thy 
c 



XXVI 

Creator in the days of thy youth, is big with the deep- 
est wisdom. The fear the Lord is the beginning 
of wisdom, and, an upright heart, that is understand- 
ing. This is eternally true, whether the wits and 
rakes of Cambridge allow it or not ; nay, I must add 
of this religious wisdom, Her ways are ways of pleas- 
antness, and all her paths are peace, whatever your 
young gentlemen of pleasure think of a whore and a 
bottle, a tainted health and battered constitution. 
Hold fast therefore by this sheet anchor of happiness, 
Religion ; you will often want it in the times of 
most danger j the storms and tempests of life. Cher- 
ish true religion as preciously as you will fly with ab- 
horrence and contempt superstition and enthusiasm. 
The first is the perfection and glory of the human 
nature ; the two last the depravation and disgrace of 
it. Remember the essence of religion is, a heart 
void of offence towards God and man •, not subtle 
speculative opinions, but an active vital principle of 
faith. The words of a heathen were so fine that 1 
must give them to you. Compositum Jus, Fasque, 
Animi Sanctosque Recessus Mentis, et incoctum gen- 
eroso Pectus Honesto. 

Go on, my dear child, in the admirable dispositions 

you have towards all that is right and good, and make 

yourself the love and admiration of the world ! I 

\ W/e neither paper nor words to tell you how tenderly 

I am yours. 



xxvn 

LETTER V, 

Bath ; Jam 24, 1754. 



i 



will lose not a -moment before I return 
my most tender and warm thanks to the most amia- 
ble, valuable, and noble minded of youths, for the 
infinite pleasure his letter gives me. My dear ne-. 
phew, what a beautiful thing is genuine goodness, 
and how lovely does the human mind appear, in its 
native purity, (in a nature as happy as yours,) before 
the taints of a corrupted world have touched it ! To 
guard you from the fatal effects of all the dangers 
that surround and beset youth, (and many they are, 
nam varise illudunt Pestes,) I thank God, is become 
my pleasing and very important charge ; your own 
choice, our nearness in blood, and still more, a dear- 
er and nearer relation of hearts, which I feel between 
us, all concur to make it so. I shall seek then every 
occasion, my dear young friend, of being useful to 
you by offering you those lights, which one must 
have lived some years in the world to see the full 
force and extent of, and which the best mind and 
clearest understanding will suggest imperfectly, in a- 
ny case, and in the most difficult, delicate, and essen- 



XX Villi 

tidl points perhaps not at all, till experience, that dear 
bought instructor, comes to our assistance. What I 
shall therefore make my task, (a happy delightful 
task, if I prove a safeguard to so much opening vir- 
tue,) is to be for some years, what you cannot be to 
yourself, your experience \ experience anticipated, 
and ready digested for your use. Thus we will en- 
deavour, my dear child, to join the two best seasons 
of life, to establish your virtue and your happiness 
tip on solid foundations j Miscens Autumni et Veris 
Honores. So much in general. I will now, my 
dear nephew, say a few things to you upon a matter 
where you have surprisingly little to learn, consider- 
ing you have seen nothing but Boconnock 5 I mean 
behaviour, Behaviour is of infinite advantage or pre- 
judice to a man, as he happens to have formed it to a 
graceful, noble, engaging., and proper manner, or to 
a vulgar, coarse, illbred, or awkward .and ungenteel 
one. Behaviour, though an external thing which: 
seems rather to belong to the body than to the mind, is, 
certainly founded in considerable virtues •, though I 
have known instances of good men, with something 
very revolting and offensive in their manner of be- 
haviour, especially when they have the misfortune to 
,be naturally very awkward and ungenteel ; and which 
their mistaken friends have helped to confirm them in, 
by telling them, they were above such trifles, as be- 
ing genteel, dancing, fencing, riding, and doing all 
manly exercises, with grace and vigour. As if the- 



XXIX 

body, because inferior, were not a part of the com- 
position of man ; and the proper, easy, ready, and 
graceful use of himself, both in mind and limb, did 
not go to make up the character of an accomplished 
man. You are in no danger of falling into this pre- 
posterous error ; and I had a great pleasure in find- 
ing you, when I first saw you in London, so' well 
disposed by nature, and so properly attentive to make 
yourself genteel in person, and'welibred in behaviour, 
I am very glad you have taken a fencing mastery 
that exercise will give you some manly, firm, and 
graceful attitudes ;. open your chest, place your head 
upright, and plant you well upon your legs. As to 
the use of the sword, it is well to know it; but re- 
member, my dearest nephew, it is a science of de~ 
fence ; and that a sword can never be employed by 
the hand of a man of virtue, in any other cause. 
As to the carriage of your person, be particularly 
careful, as you are tall and thin, not to get a habit 
of stooping ; nothing has so poor a look : above ail 
things avoid contracting any peculiar gesticulation of 
the body, or movements of the muscles of the face. 
It is rare to see in any one a graceful laughter ; it is 
generally better to smile than laugh out, especially 
to contract a habit of laughing' at small or no jokes. 
Sometimes it would be affectation, or worse, mere 
moroseness, not to laugh heartily, when the truly ri- 
diculous circumstances of an incident, cr the true" 
pleasantry and wit of a thing, call for and justify it r, 



XXX 

But the trick of laughing frivolously is by all means 
to be avoided ; Risu inepto, Res ineptior nulla est. 
Now as to politeness ; many have attempted defini- 
tions of it 5 I believe it is best to be known by de- 
scription ; definition not being able to comprise it. I 
would however venture to call it, benevolence in tri- 
fles, or the preference of others to ourselves in little 
daily, hourly, occurrences in the commerce of life. 
A better place, a more commodious seat, priority in 
being helped at table, &c. what is it, but sacrificing 
ourselves in such trifles to the convenience and pleas- 
ure of others ? And this constitutes true politeness. 
It is a perpetual attention, (by habit it grows easy and 
natural to us,) to the little wants of those we are 
with, by which we either prevent, or remove them- 
Bowing, ceremonious* formal compliments, stiff 
civilities, will never be politeness ; that must be 
easy, natural, unstudied, manly, noble.- And what 
will give this, but a mind benevolent, and per- 
petually attentive to exert that amiable disposition 
in trifles towards all you converse and live with ? 
Benevolence in greater matters takes a higher name,. 
and is the queen of virtues. Nothing is so in- 
compatible with politeness as any trick of absence 
of mind. I would trouble you with a word or two; 
more upon some branches of behaviour, which have 
a more serious and obligation in them, than 
those of mere politeness j which are equally im- 
portant in the eye of thQ world. I mean a proper 



XXXI 

behaviour, adapted to the respective relations we 
stand in, towards the different ranks of superiors* 
equals, and inferiors. Let your behaviour towards 
superiors, in dignity, age, learning, or any distin- 
guished excellence, be full of respect, deference, and 
modesty. Towards equals, nothing becomes a man. 
so well, as well bred ease, polite freedom, generous 
frankness, manly spirit, always tempered with gen- 
tleness and sweetness of manner, noble sincerity, 
candour, and openness of heart, qualified and re- 
strained within the bounds of discretion and pru- 
dence, and ever limited by a sacred regard to se- 
crecy, in all things entrusted to it, and an inviola- 
ble attachment to your word. To inferiors, gen- 
tleness, condescension, and affability, is the only 
dignity. Towards servants, never accustom your- 
self to rough and passionate language. When they 
are good we should consider them as humiles Ami- 
ci, as fellow Christians, ut Conservi ; and when 
they are bad, pity, admonish, and part with them 
if incorrigible. On all occasions beware, my child, 
of anger, that daemon,, that destroyer of our peace* 
Ira furor brevis est,, animum rege qui nisi paret 
Xmperat, hunc fnenis hunc tu compesce catenis, 
"Write soon and tell me of your studies. 

Your ever affectionate- 



XXXIf 



LETTER VF.. 



Bath 3 Feb. 3, 1754W- 



N 



O THING can, or ought to give me 
higher satisfaction, than the obliging manner in which 
my dear nephew receives my most sincere and af- 
fectionate endeavours to be of use to him. You 
much overrate the obligation, whatever it be;, 
which youth has to those who have trod the paths 
of the world before them, for their friendly advice 
hew to avoid the inconveniences, dangers, and evils, 
which they themselves may have run upon, for 
want of such timely warnings, and. to seize, culti- 
vate, and carry forward towards perfection, those ad- 
vantages, graces,- virtues, and felicities, which they 
may have totally missed, . or stopped short in the 
generous pursuit. To lend this helping hand to 
those who are beginning to tread the slippery way, 
seems, at best, but an office of common humanity to 
all -, but to withhold it, from one we truly love, and 
whose heart and mind bear every genuine mark of 
the very soil proper for all the amiable, manly, and 
generous virtues to take root, and bear their heaven- 
ly fruit 5 inward, conscious peace,, £ime amount 



xxxi i r 

men, public love, temporal and eternal happiness % 
to withhold it, I say, in such an instance, would de- 
serve the worst of names* I am greatly pleased, 
my dear young friend, that you do me the justice 
to believe I do not mean to impose any yoke of au- 
thority upon your understanding and conviction. I 
wish to warn, admonish, instruct, enlighten, and 
convince your reason ; and so determine your judg- 
ment to right things, when you shall be made to 
see that they are right : not to overbear,, and im- 
pel you. to adopt any thing before you perceive 
it to be right or wrong, by the force of autho- 
rity. I hear with great pleasure, that Locke lay- 
before you, when you wrote last to me ; and I 
like the observation that you make from him, that 
we must use our own reason, not that of anoth- 
er, if we would deal fairly by ourselves, and hope 
to enjoy a peaceful and contented conscience^ 
This precept is truly worthy of the dignity of 
rational natures. But here, my dear child, let me 
offer one distinction to you, and it is of much 
moment ; it is this. Mr. Locke's precept is ap- 
plicable only to such opinions, as regard moral 
or religious obligations, and which as such, our 
own consciences alone can judge and determine 
for ourselves. Matters of mere expediency, that 
affect neither honour, morality, or religion, were 
never in that great and wise man's view \ such 
are the usages, forms* manners, modes, proprieties* 



x&xir 

decorums, and all those numberless ornamental lit- 
tle acquirements, and genteel, wellbred attentions, 
which constitute a proper, graceful, amiable, and' 
noble behaviour. In matters of this kind, I am 
sure, your own reason, to which I shall always 
refer you, will at once tell you, that you must, 
at first, make use of the experience of others y 
in effect, see with their eyes, or not be able to 
see at all ; for the ways of the world,, as to its 
usages and exterior manners, as well" as to all" 
things of expediency and prudential considerations,, 
a moment's reflection will convince a mind as 
right as yours, must necessarily be to inexperi- 
enced youth, with ever so fine natural' parts, a 
terra incognita. As you would not therefore at- 
tempt to form notions of China or Fersia but from 
those who have travelled tliose countries, and the 
fidelity and sagacity of whose relations you can 
trust ; so will you, as little,. I trust, prema-- 
turely form notions of your own, concerning 
that usage of the world (as it is called) into 
which you have not yet travelled, and which must 
be long studied and practiced, before it can be tole- 
rably well known. I can repeat nothing to you 
of so infinite consequence to your future welfare,. 
as to conjure you not to be hasty in taking up 
notions and opinions. Guard your honest and in- 
genuous mind against this main danger of youth.. 
With regard to all things, that appear not to your 



reason, after due examination, evident duties ef 
honour, morality, or religion, (and in all such as 
do, let your conscience and reason, determine your 
notions and conduct) in all other matters, I say, 
he slow to form opinions \ keep your mind in a 
candid state of suspense, and open to full con- 
viction when you shall procure it, using in the 
mean time the experience of a friend you can 
trust, the sincerity of whose advice you will try 
and prove by your own experience hereafter, when 
more years shall have given it to you. I have 
been longer upon this head, than I hope there 
was any occasion for ; but the great importance 
of the matter, and my warm wishes for your wel- 
fare, figure, and happiness, have drawn it from 
me. I wish to know if you have a good French 
master. I must recommend the study of the French 
language, to speak and write it correctly, as to 
grammar and orthography, as a matter of the ut- 
most and indispensable use to you, if you would 
make any figure in the great world. I need say 
no more to enforce this recommendation. When 
I get to London, I will send you the best French 
dictionary. Have you been taught geography and 
the use of the globes by Mr. Leech ? if not, 
pray take a geography master and learn the use of 
the globes ; it is soon known. I recommend to you 
to acquire a clear and thorough ' notion of what is 
galled the solar system ; together with the doc- 



trine of comets. I wanted as much, or more, 
to hear of your private reading at home, as of 
public lectures, which I hope however you will 
frequent for examples sake. Pardon this long 
letter, and keep it by you if you do not hate it. 
Believe me } 

My dear nephew, 

Ever affectionately* 

Yours* 



LETTER VII. 



Bath, March 30, 1754. 



vIY DEAR' NEPHEW, 



1 AM much obliged to you for your kind 
remembrance and wishes for my health. It is 
much recovered by the regular lit of the gout, of 
which I am lame in both feet, and I may hope 
for better health hereafter in consequence, I have 



thought it long since we conversed ; I waited to 
be able to give you a better account of my health, 
and in part to leave you time to make advances in 
your plan of study, of which I am very desirous to 
hear an account. I desire you will be so good to 
let me know particularly, if you have gone through 
the abridgment of Burnet's History of the Refor- 
mation, and the Treatise of Father Paul on Bene- 
fices *, also how much of Locke you have read. 
I beg you not to mix any other English reading 
with what I recommended to you. I propose to 
save you much time and trouble, by pointing out 
to you such books, in succession, as will carry you 
the shortest way to the things you must know to 
fit yourself for the business of the world, and give 
you the clearer knowledge of them, by keeping 
them unmixed with superfluous, vain, empty trash. 
Let me hear, my dear child, of your French also ; 
as well as of those studies which are more prop- 
erly university studies. I cannot tell you better 
how truly and tenderly I love you, than by tel- 
ling you I am most solicitously bent on your do- 
ing every thing that is right, and laying the 
foundations of your future happiness and figure In 
the world, in such a course of improvement, as 
will not fail to make you a better man, while it 
makes you a more knowing one. Do you rise 
early ? I hope you have already made to your- 
self the habit of doing it j if not, let me con- 
D 



XXXVIII 

jure you to acquire it. Remember your friend 
Horace. Et ni Posces ante Diem librum cum 
lumine, si non Intendes animum studiis, et rebus 
honestis, Invidia vel Amore miser torquebere. 

Adieu. 

Tout affectionate uncle. 



LETTER VIIIc 

$ath, May 4, 1754, 



DEAR NEPHEW, 



X USE a pen with some difficulty, bkr 
Ing still lame in my hand with the gout. I can* 
not however delay writing this line to you on 
the course of English History I propose for you. 
if you have finished the Abridgment of English 
History and of Burnet's History of the Reformat 
tion, I recommend to you next (before any othr 
er reading of history) Oldeastle's Remarks on the 
History of England, by Lord Bolingbroke. Let 
me apprise you of one thing before you read 
them, and that is, that the author has bent some 
passages to make them invidious parallels to the 
£imes he wrote in •, therefore be aware of that ? 



XXXIX 

:fhd depend, in general, on finding the truest con- 
stitutional doctrines •, and that the facts of his- 
tory (though warped) are no where falsified. I 
also recommend Nathaniel Bacon's Historical and- 
Political Observations;* it is, without exception* 
the best and most instructive book we have on 
matters of that kind. They are both to be read 
with much attention and twice over; Oldcastle's 
Remarks to be studied and almost got by heart, 
for the inimitable beauty of the style, as well as 
the matter. Bacon for the matter chiefly; the 
style being uncouth, but the expression forcible 
and striking,' I can write no more, and you will 
hardly read what is written. 
Adieu, my dear child ,>•■ 

Your ever affectionate uncle.- 

* This book, though at present little known, formerly enjoyed a 
very high reputation. It is written with a very evident bias to tha 
principles of the parliamentary party to which Bacon adhered ; but 
contains a great deal of very useful and valuable matter. It was 
published in two parts, the first in 1647, tne second in 1651, and 
was secretly reprinted in 16-72, arid again in r68a; for "which, edi- 
tion the -publisher was indicted and outlawed. After the revolution 
a fourth edition was printed with an advertisement, asserting, on 
the authority of Lord Chief Justice Vaughan^ one of Selden's exe- 
cutors, that the groundwork of this book was laid by that great 
and learned man. And it is probably on the ground of this asser- 
tion that in the folio edition of Bacon's book, printed in 1739, ^ * 3 
said in the title page to have been " collected from some manuscript 
notes of John Selden, Esq." But it does not appear that this notion 
rests on any sufficient evidence. It is however manifest from some 
expressions in the very unjust and disparaging account given of thi3 
work in Nicholson's Historical Library, (part i. p. 150,) that Na- 
thaniel Bacon was generally considered as an imitator and follower 
s£ Sebien. 



XL 



LETTER IX. 



Astrop Wells, Sept 5, 1 754, 



MY DEAR NEPHEW, 

1 HAVE been a long time without con- 
versing with you, and thanking you for the pleas- 
ure of your last letter. You may possibly be 
about to return to the seat of learning on the 
banks of the Cam ; but I will not defer discoursing 
to you on literary matters till you leave Cornwall, 
not doubting but you are mindful of the muses- 
amidst the very savage rocks and moors, and 
yet more savage natives, of the ancient and re- 
spectable dutchy. First, with regard to the o- 
pinion you desire concerning a common place 
book ; in general, I much disapprove the use of 
it. It is chiefly intended for persons who mean 
to be authors, and tends to impair the memory, 
and to deprive you of a ready, extempore, use of 
your reading, by accustoming the mind to dis- 
charge itself of its reading on paper, instead of 
relying on its natural power of retention, aided 



and fortified by frequent revisions of its ideas and 
material 

Some things must be common placed in order to 
be of any use ; dates, chronological order and the 
like m , for instance, Nathaniel Bacon ought to be 
extracted in the best method you can ; but m 
general my advice to you is, not to common place 
upon paper, but as an equivalent to it, to en- 
deavor to range and methodize in your head 
what you read, and by so doing frequently and 
habitually to fix matter in the memory. I de- 
sired you some time since to read Lord Claren- 
don's History of the civil wars. I have lately 
read a much honester and more instructive book, 
of the same period of history ; it is the History 
of the Parliament, by Thomas May,*" Esq. &c. 
I will send it to you as so©n as you return to 
Cambridge.* If you have not read Burnets's 
History of his own Times, I beg you will. I 
koge your father b well.- My love to the girls. 

Tour ever affectionate^ 



** May, tEe translator of iucan, Had Been much countenanced" 
By Charles the First, but quitted the court on some personal 
disgust, and afterwards became Secretary to the Parliament. 
His history was published in 1647 under their authority and 
licence, and cannot by any means b^ considered as an impar* 
tial work. It is however well worthy of being attentively read ; 
and the contemptuous character given of it by Clarendon {Life 
■sol. I. p. 55,) is as much below its real merit as Clarendon'* 
@wu history is superior to it. 

D % 



%LU 



LETTER X. 

Pay- Office, April 9, 1755. 



MY DEAR NEPHEW, 

1 REJOICE extremely to hear that your fa- 
ther and the girls are not unentertained in their 
travels \ in the mean time your travels through the 
paths of literature, arts, and sciences (a road some- 
times set with flowers, and sometimes difficult, la- 
borious, and arduous,) are not only infinitely more 
profitable in future, but at present, upon the whole, 
infinitely more delightful. My own travels at pre- 
sent are none of the pleasantest. I am going 
through a fit of the gout •, with much proper pain 
and what proper patience I may. Avis au lecteur, 
my sweet boy ; remember thy Creator in the days 
of thy youth. Let no excesses lay the founda- 
tions of gout and the rest of Pandora's box ; nor 
any immoralities, or vicious courses sew the seeds 
of a too late and painful repentance. Here ends 
my sermon, which, I trust, you are not fine gen- 
tleman enough, or in plain English, silly fellow 
enough, to laugh at. Lady Hester is much yours- 
Let me hear some account of your intercourse.* 
with the muses,. 



30412 



LETTER XL 



Pay-Office 5 April 6, 1755, 



MY DEA& NEPHEW 3 



A THOUSAND thanks to my dear boy 
for a very pretty letter. I like extremely the ac« 
count you give of your literary life *, the reflections 
you make upon some West-Saxon actors in the 
times you are reading, are natural, manly, and 
sensible, and flow from a heart that will make 
you for superior to any of -them. I am content 
you should be interrupted (provided the interruption 
be not long) in the course of your reading by de- 
claiming in defence of the Thesis you have so wisely 
chosen to maintain. It is true indeed that the 
affirmative maxim, Ornne solum forti Patria est, 
has supported some great and good men under 
the persecutions of fiction and party injustice, and 
taught them to prefer an hospitable retreat in a 
foreign land to an unnatural mother country. 
Some few such may be found in ancient times ; 






in our own country also some ; sucn was ii.ger- 
r.on Sidney, Ludlow and ethers. But hew dan- 



XhlV 

gerous is it to trust frail, corrupt man, with sueB" 
an aphorism I What fatal casuistry is it big with ! 
How many a villain might, and has, masked him- 
self in the sayings of ancient illustrious exiles, 
while he was,, in fact, dissolving all the nearest,, 
and dearest ties that hold societies together, and 
spurning at all laws divine and human [ How 
easy the transition from this political to some 
impious ecclesiastical aphorisms ! If all soils 
are alike to the brave and virtuous, so may all 
churches and modes of worship ; that is, all 
will be equally neglected and violated •■ Instead 
of every soil being his country, he will have no 
one for his country; he will be the forlorn out- 
cast of mankind* Such was the late Bolingbroke 
of impious memory. Let me know when your 
declamation is over. Pardon an observation on 
style ; 1 1 received, yours' is vulgar and mer- 
cantile ;, c your letter' is the way of writing. In* 
close vour letters in a. cs-ver j. it is more polite,, 



XLV" 



LETTER XII. 



Pay-Ofhce, May 20, lj$f 



Ml DEAR NEPHEW, 



1 AM extremely concerned to hear' 
that you have been ill, especially as your ac- 
count of an illness, you speak of as past, im- 
plies such remains of disorder as I beg you will 
give all proper attention to. By the medicine 
your physician has ordered, I conceive he con- 
siders your case in some degree nervous. If 
that Be so, advise with him whether a little 
change of air and of the scene, together" with 
some weeks course of steel waters,, might not be 
highly proper for you. I am to go- the day 
after to morrow to Sunning Hill, in Windsor 
Forest,, where I propose to drink those wa- 
ters for about a month. Lady Hester and 
I shall be happy in your company if your doc- 
tor shall be of opinion that such waters may 
be of service to you ; which, I hope, will be 
his opinion. Besides health recovered, the mu- 
ses shall not be quite forgot ; we will ride, read,. 



walk, and philosophize, extremely at our ease^ 
and you may return to Cambridge with new ar- 
dour, or at least with strength repaired, when 
we leave Sunning Hill. If you come, the 1 
sooner the better, on all accounts. We propose 
to go into Buckinghamshire in about a month. 
I rejoice that ycur declamation is over, and that 
you have begun, my dearest nephew, to open 
your mouth in public, ingenti Patriae perculsuS 
Amore* I wish I had heard you perform % the 
only way I ever shall hear your praises from your 
own mouth. My gout prevented my so much 
intended and wished for journey to Cambridge \ 
and now mj plan of drinking waters renders it 
impossible. Come then, my dear boy, to us 5. 
and so Mahomet and the mountain meet 3 no 
matter which moves to" the other. Adieu. 

Your ever affectionate.* 



LETTER XIII. 



MY DEAR NEPHEW, 



i HAVE delayed writing to you in ex- 
pectation of hearing farther from you upon the 
subject of your stay at College. No news is the- 



2C1. TO 

'hest news, and I will hope now that all your 
difficulties upon that head are at an end. I 
represent you to myself deep in study, and drink- 
ing large draughts of intellectual nectar; a very 
delicious state to a mind happy and elevated enough, 
•to thirst after knowledge and true honest fame, even 
as the hart panteth after the water brooks. When 
1 name knowledge, I even intend learning as the 
weapon and instrument only of maniy, honourable, 
and virtuous action, upon the stage of the world 
both in private and public life; as a gentleman, 
and as a member of the commonwealth, who is 
to answer for all he does to the laws of his 
country, to his own breast and conscience, and 
at the tribunal of honour and good fame. You, 
my dear boy, will not only be acquitted, but ap- 
plauded and dignified at all these respectable and 
awful bars. So, macte tua virtute ! go on and 
prosper in your glorious and happy career; not 
forgetting to walk an hour briskly every mor- 
ning and evening, to fortify the nerves. I wish 
•to hear in some little time, of the progress you 
shall have made in the course of reading chalk- 
ed out. Adieu, 

Your ever affectionate uncle. 

jLady Hester desires her best -compliments to you." 



LETTER XIV. 

Stowe, July 24j 1755^ 

MY DEAR NEPHEW, 

1 AM just leaving this place to go to 
Wotton \ but I will not lose the post, though 
I have time but for one line. I am extreme- 
ly happy that you can stay at your college, and pur- 
sue the prudent and glorious resolution of em- 
ploying your present moments with a view to 
the future. May your noble and generous love 
of virtue pay you with the sweet rewards of 
a self approving heart and applauding country ! 
and may I enjoy the true satisfaction of seeing 
your fame and happiness, and of thinking that 
I may have been fortunate enough to have con- 
tributed, in any small degree, to do common 
justice to kind nature by a suitable education ] 
I am no very good judge of the question con- 
cerning the books. I believe they are your own 
in the same sense that your wearing apparrel 
is. I would retain them, and leave the candid 

and equitable Mr to plan, with the honest 

Mr. .,...., schemes of perpetual vexation. As 
to the persons just mentioned, I trust that you 
bear about vou a mind and heart much su- 



XLIX 

perior to such malice ; and that you are as little 
capable of resenting it, with any sensations but 
those of cool decent contempt, as you are of 
fearing the consequences of such low efforts. 
As to the caution money, I think you have done 
well. The case of the chambers, I conceive, you 
"likewise apprehend rightly. Let me know in 
your next what these two articles require you 
to pay down, and how far your present cash is 
exhausted, and I will direct Mr. Campbell to 
give you credit accordingly. Believe me my 
<lear nephew, truly happy to be of use to you. 

Tour ever affectionate. 



LETTER XV. 

Wotton, Aug. 7, -i 75-5... 



MY DEAR NEPHEW, 

X HAVE only time at present to let 
you know I am setting out for London ; when 
I return to Sunning Hill, which I propose to do 
in a few days, I shall have considered the 

question about a letter to , and will send 

you my thoughts upon it. As to literature, 
I know you are not idle, under so many and 
so strong motives to animate you to the ardent 
pursuit of improvement. For English history, 
read the revolutions of York and Lancaster in 
Pere d'Orleans and no more of the father ; the 
life of Edward the Fourth, and so downwards 
all the life writers of our kings, except such 
as you have already read. For Queen Ana'^ 
Seign the -continuator of Rapin. 

farewell, my dearest nephew, for today. 

Your most affectionate uncle* 



fcETTER XVL 



Bath, Sept. 25, 1 ft J. 



I 



HAVE not conversed with my dear 
nephew a long time •, I have been much in a 
post chise living a wandering Scythian life, and 
he has been more usefully employed than in 
reading or writing letters 5 travelling through 
the various, instructing, and entertaining road of 
history. I have a particular pleasure in hear- 
ing now and then a word from you in your 
journey, just while you are changing horses, if 
I may so call it, and getting from one author 
to another. I suppose you going through the 
biographers, from Edward the Fourth downwards, 
nor intending to stop till you reach to the con- 
tinuator of honest Rapin. There is a little 
book I never mentioned, Welwood's Memoirs ; 
I recommend it. Davis's Ireland must not on 
any account be omitted ; it is a great perform- 
ance, a masterly work, and contains much 
depth and extensive knowledge in state matters 
and settling of countries, in a very short com- 
pass. I have met with a scheme of chronolo- 



JLIi 



gy by Blair, shewing all cotemporary, historical 
characters, through all ages. It is of great use 
to consult frequently, in order to fix periods, 
and throw collateral light upon any particular 
branch you are reading. Let me know, when 
I have the pleasure of a letter from you, how 
far you are advanced in English history. You 
may probably not have heard authentically of 
Governor Lyttleton's captivity and release. He 
is safe and well in England, after being taken 
and detained in France some days. Sir Richard 
and he met, unexpectedly enough, at Brussels, 
and came together to England. I propose re- 
mmino; to London in about a week, where I 
hope to nnd Lady Hester as well as I left 
her. We are both much indebted for your 
kind and affectionate wishes, In publka com- 
moda precem si longo sermone morer one bent 
qn so honourable and virtuous a journey as you 
are. 



Lin 
LETTER XVII. 

Pay-Office, Dec. 6 3 1755 



\Jf all the various satisfactions of mind 
I have felt upon some late events, none has af- 
fected me with more sensibility and delight than 
the reading my dear nephew's letter. The mat- 
ter of it is worthy of a better age than that 
we live in j worthy of your own noble, un- 
tainted mind ; and the manner and expression 
of it is such, as, I trust, will one day make 
yeu a powerful instrument towards mending the 
present degeneracy- Examples are unnecessary 
to happy natures *, and it is well for your Ma- 
ture glory and happiness that this is the case ; 
for to copy any now existing might cramp ge- 
nius and. check the native spirit of the piece, 
rather than, contribute to the perfection of it. 
I learn, from Sir Richard Lyttleton that we may 
have the- pleasure of meeting, soon, as he lias 
already,, or intends to offer you a bed at his 
house.. It is on this, as on all occasions, lit- 
tle necessary to preach prudence,, or to intimate 
a wish that- your studies at Cambridge might 
not be broken by a long interruption of them- 



LIV 



1 know the tightness of your own mind, and 
leave you to all the generous and animating 
motives you find there, for pursuing improve- 
ments in literature and useful knowledge, as 
much better counsellors than 

Your ever most affectionate uncle. 

Lady Hester desires her best compliments to fajL 
The little cousin is welh 



LETTER XVIII. 

Horse Guards, Jan, 31, 175-5*. 

MY DEAR HEPBEW* 

JLET me thank you a thousand times for 
your remembering me, and giving me the pleasure 
of hearing that you was well, and had laid by the 
ideas of London and its dissipations, to resume 
the sober train cf thoughts that gowns, square 
caps, quadrangles, and matin bells, naturally draw 
after them. I hope the air of Cambridge has 
brought no disorder upon you, and that you 
will compound with the muses so as to dedi- 
cate some hours* not less than two* of the 



day t0 exercise. The earlier yoa rise, the bet- 
ter your nerves will bear study. When you 
next do me the pleasure to write to me, I 
beg a copy of your elegy on your mother's 
picture \ it is such admirable poetry, that I beg 
you to plunge deep into prose and severer stud- 
ies, and not indulge your genius with, verse, for the 
present. Finitimus Oratori Poeta.. Substitute 
Tully and Demosthenes in the place of Homer 
and Virgil v and arm yourself with all the va- 
riety of manner, copiousness and beauty of dic- 
tion, nobleness and magnificence of ideas of the 
Roman consul; and render the powers of el- 
oquence complete by the irresistable torrent of 
vehement argumentation, the close and forcible rea- 
soning, and the depth and fortitude of mind of 
the Grecian statesman. This I mean at leisure 
intervals, and to relieve the course of those 
studies, which you intend to make your princi- 
pal object. The book relating to the empire 
of Germany, which I could not recollect, is 
Vitriarius's Jus Publicum, an admirable book in 
its kind, and esteemed of the best authority in 
matters much controverted. We are all well y 
Sir Richard is upon his legs and abroad again* 

Tour ever affectionate uncle 



LYX 



LETTER XIX. 



Hayes a near Bromley, May ?i, iy$6* 

IVlY dear nephew's obliging letter was 
every way most pleasing -, as I had more than 
began to think it long since I had the satisfac- 
tion of hearing he was welh As the season of 
humidity and relaxation is now almost over, X 
trust that the muses are in no danger of ner- 
vous complaints, and that whatever pains they 
have to tell are out of the reach of Esculapir 
us, and not dangerous, though epidemical t® 
youth at this soft month, 

When lavish. Nature, in her best attire,. 
Clothes the gay spring, the season. of 'desire- 
To be serious, I hope my dearest- nephew is 
perfectly free from all returns of his former 
complaint, and enabled' by an unailing body, and 
an ardent elevated mind, to follow, Quo Te Ccelestis 
Sapientia duceret. My holy days are now ap- 
proaching, and I long to hear, something of your 
labours, which I doubt not, will prove in their 
consequence more profitable to- your country a. 
few years hence than your uncle's. Be so good 
to, let me know what progress you have made- 



hi our historical and constitutional journey, that 
I may suggest to you some farther reading, 
Lady Hester is well, and desires her best com- 
pliments to you. I am well, but threatened 
with gout in my feet, from a parliamentary de- 
bauch till six in the morning, on the militia, 
Poor Sir Richard is laid up with the gout. 

Yours, most affectionately ~ 

LETTER XX. 

Hayes,. Oct. 7, 1 756'. 

A THINK it very long since I heard a- 
ny thing of my dear nephew's health and learn- 
ed occupations at the mother of arts and sci- 
ences. Pray give me the pleasure of a letter soon 5 
and be so good to let me know what progress 
is made in our plan of reading. I am now 
to make a request to you in behalf of a young 
gentleman coming to Cambridge, Mr. ***'s son* 
The father desires much that you and his son 
may make an acquaintance, as what father 
would not ? Mr.* # * is one of the best friends 
I have in the world, and nothing can oblige me 
more than that you would do all in your pow^ 
er to be of assistance and advantage to the- 



JLVIII 

young, man. He has good parts, good natnrcy 
and amiable qualities. He is young, and con- 
sequently much depends on ; the first habits he 
forms whether of application or dissipation,- 
You see, my dear nephew, what it is already 
to have made yourself Princeps Juventutis. It 
has its glories and its cares. You are invested 
with a kind of public charge, and the eyes of 
the world are upon you not only for your own 
acquittal, but for the example and pattern to 
the British youth. Lady Hester is still about, 
but in daily expectation of the good minute. 
She desires her best compliments to you. My 
lister has gone to Howberry. Believe me ever, 

My dear nephew, 

Most affectionately yours* 



LETTER XXL 

Hayes, Oct. 10, 1756. 



DEAR NEPHEW, 



JL HAVE the pleasure to acquaint you 
with the glad tidings of Hayes. Lady Hester 
was safely delivered this morning of a son. 
She and the child are as well as possible, and 
the father in the joy of his heart. It is no 
small addition to my happiness to know you 



XI £ 

will kindly share it with me. A father must 
form wishes for his child as soon as it comes 
into the world, and I will make mine, that 
iie may live to make as good use of life, as 
one that shall be nameless, is now doing at 
Cambridge. Quid voveat majus Matricula dul- 
£is Alumno ? Your ever affectionate* 



LETTER XXIL 
St. Jame's Square, Aug. 28, 1757* 

MY DEAR NEPHEW, 

iN OTHING can give me greater pleas» 
ure than the approaching conclusion of a hap- 
py reconciliation in the family. Your letter to 
***is the properest that can /be imagined, and, 
I doubt not, will make the deepest impression 
on his heart, I have been in much pain for 
you during all this unseasonable weather, and 
am still apprehensive, till I have the satisfaction 
of hearing from you, that your course of sea- 
bathing has b>en interrupted by such gusts of 
wind as must have rendered the sea too rough 
an element for a convalescent to disport in. I 
trust, my dearest nephew, that opening scenes of 
^domestic comfort and family affection will con- 
firm and augment every hour the benefits you 
.are receiving from Brighthelmston, from external 



(LX 



and internal medical assistances. Lady Hester 
and aunt Mary join with me in all good wish- 
es for your health and happiness. The duplicate 
-### mentions having addressed to me, has never 
come to hand. I am ever yours. 



LETTER XXIII. 

St. Jame's Square, Oct. 37, I7J7< 

SEAE NEPHEW, 

INCLOSED is a letter from***, which 
came in one to me. I heartily wish the con- 
tents may be agreeable to you. 

I am far from being satisfied, my dearest 
nephew, with the account your last letter to 
•my sister gives of your health. I had formed 
the hope of your ceasing to be an invalid be- 
fore this time ; but since you must submit to 
be one for this winter, I am comforted to find 
your strength is not impaired, as it used to be, 
by the returns of illness you sometimes feel ; 
and I trust the good government you are un- 
der, and the fortitude and manly resignation you 
are possessed of, will carry you well through 
this trial of a young man's patience, and bring 
you out in spring, like gold, the better for the 
proof. I rejoice to hear you have a friend of 
great merit to be with you. My warmest wish- 
es for your health and happiness never fail to 
follow you. Yours affectionately. 






